


eat.

by DictionaryWrites



Series: ☀️☀️☀️ Prompt Minifills [9]
Category: Marvel
Genre: Feeding, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Feeding, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Fixation, Power Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-30 18:20:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15102326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: The first time, it’s nothing. It feels like nothing.





	eat.

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [ешь.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15464583) by [Walter_Kovacs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walter_Kovacs/pseuds/Walter_Kovacs)



> Prompt: ☀️Frostmaster + The Grandmaster feeding Loki

The first time, it’s nothing. It feels like nothing. 

In the midst of a party, the Grandmaster turns to Loki, and says, “Aw, Lo-Lo,  _honey_ , you, uh– you gotta try this.” And there is some small canapé held between his thumb and forefinger. Frowning, Loki moves to take it, but the Grandmaster just pushes it forward, closer to his mouth, and automatically, Loki parts his lips. The canapé is some sort of fish egg on a small cracker, and it tastes  _fine_ , but the important thing is the way the Grandmaster’s thumb and forefinger linger just inside of Loki’s lips, just for a moment, before they pull away.

Loki closes his mouth. Chews. Swallows.

“Good, right?” the Grandmaster asks, grinning.

“Good,” Loki says, a little breathlessly.

                                                        ❄ ❄ ❄ 

The second time, it’s on purpose. Loki is distracted, reading a book at the dinner table ( _rude_ , and he knows it) that he had pilfered from some dead sorcerer before one of the scrappers could get to him (he hadn’t been dead, when Loki had met him)… But the book is  _interesting_. 

“Honey, you’re not, uh, you’re not eating.” Loki glances up, looking with disinterest at his plate of Ionian carpaccio. He eats well, on Sakaar - Loki can eat fermented meats and acidic dishes, can eat salty and bitter foods without worrying over the AEsir opinion, but for now? He lacks appetite for  _food_  - he has an appetite for knowledge that seems to outweigh it.

“Grandmaster, I’ll eat something later, I merely–” He watches the Grandmaster’s hand as it takes up a disc of thin, filmy meat, and he grunts when the Grandmaster takes his chin in his hand, forcing Loki’s mouth open. The meat is set upon his tongue, and obediently, he chews. Swallows. The Grandmaster’s index finger traces the shift of his throat, and Loki feels hot all over. 

“I have to feed you the whole thing?” the Grandmaster asks, lowly, dangerously.

“No, Grandmaster,” Loki mumbles, and he sets the book aside. There’s a heady flush in his cheeks, and it’s nothing compared to the  _inexplicable_  arousal coiling in his belly.  _Appetites_ indeed. 

                                                       ❄ ❄ ❄ 

“Eat this, honey,” the Grandmaster says, and Loki’s mouth is open before he even  _thinks_  of it. The morsel dissolves upon his tongue in a hiss of acid, and Loki lets out a noise of delighted surprise, his fingers going to his tingling lips at the wonderful, sharp taste. “You, uh, you like that? This guy’s got a whole crate of ‘em.” 

Loki looks at the fellow, a large Irathient trader, burly and broad. “I like them,” Loki says. 

“I’ll buy them off him, sweet pea, but, uh–” And then the Grandmaster’s hand is around his waist, pulling Loki into his lap. He taps Loki’s lower lip. “You only eat them when I, uh, I feed them to you. Okay?” Loki swallows, biting down on his lower lip. “What? You’re… You look  _embarrassed_.” The Grandmaster’s eyes are glinting with delight, and Loki shivers.

“Alright,” he assents, softly. “Fine.” The Grandmaster’s thumb presses between his lips, and Loki grunts, his tongue flat against the Grandmaster’s skin, tasting salt and stardust. 

“You know, baby, you’ve got.. Just a  _little_  bit of an oral fixation.”

 _No, I don’t_ , Loki wants to say, but the Grandmaster’s thumb is flat against his tongue: he can only groan quietly.

“We’ll take ‘em,” the Grandmaster says softly, but he doesn’t look at the trader: he keeps his eyes right on Loki, and Loki tastes his fascination upon the very air. 

**Author's Note:**

> Put a ☀️ and a prompt in my ask for a minifill! 
> 
> [Hit me up](http://dictionarywrites.tumblr.com/faq). Requests always open.


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